


Nothing to say

by Evietan



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9571160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evietan/pseuds/Evietan
Summary: Fushimi meets his former King one last time during the fight on Ashinaka.Written for Rarepair Week 2017.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's rarepair week! Time for some angst! ^-^  
> Prompt was 'Endings'

It was cold, and Fushimi was in a bad mood, and having spent the entire night on the bridge to Ashinaka had not helped with either. All because the stupid Red Clan and its incompetent King had decided they needed revenge for Totsuka Tatara, and they needed it right now, in the middle of winter, in a fucking school of all places. Sure, the Colourless King was partly to blame, especially the school part was unnecessary, he didn’t doubt the Reds would’ve been fine killing him anywhere, possibly in an easier to access place with less innocent civilians at risk. Still, they could’ve been a little bit more considerate of all the work they were creating for Fushimi and the rest of Scepter 4 with this.

As if. Fushimi was decently sure he’d seen through their plans – they weren’t exactly hiding their intentions – and if it worked out how they planned, they would create bigger problems than just mountains of paperwork and Fushimi’s fingers slowly turning numb.

A gaze to the Captain confirmed his suspicions. He’d gone to have a talk with Suoh Mikoto, but apparently to no avail. Munakata still looked as calm as ever, but Fushimi could tell he was worried, and that threw him off more than he’d like to admit. Maybe he’d come to rely on his Captain’s unwavering confidence and perfectly thought out plans a bit too much.

To Suoh Mikoto, none of that meant anything. He just burned down everything in his path, uncaring about the consequences.

When they finally got the order to move in, Fushimi made no effort to seek him out. There was no point. The negotiations were over, and he didn’t delude himself to think he was a bigger obstacle than a fly to a King. He went for Misaki instead. Misaki he could fight, he could get under his skin and rile him up and get a reaction fierce enough to distract him from the inevitable.

Fushimi did not plan to lose sight of Misaki in the crowd, and he most definitely did not plan to run into the Red King.

He’d simply thought he’d seen Isana Yashiro and his friends slink away behind a building, and he’d chased after them with the vague hope that it would be of some help, that maybe he could solve this mystery before anyone else and then… well, something. He could figure that out when he got there.

Which he didn’t. Suoh was going after them too and noticed Fushimi, effectively terminating his chance for success entirely. Still, he held up his sword and assumed fighting position, like the good Blue Clansman he was. Sort of.

“Stand down, Suoh Mikoto,” he demanded, ready to rattle of the rest about protocols and the legal situation, but Suoh let his aura flare and Fushimi crumbled. Suddenly firecrackers were exploding in his ears as a faceless crowd attacked him and Fushimi could do nothing but remain motionless and watch in fear and awe as the flames decimated everything around him.

Before his mind could take him even further back, the fire vanished as quick as it had appeared. Fushimi clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing he was let off easy out of pity, but not strong enough to demand to be treated differently.

Apparently though, he’d at least succeeded in deterring Suoh from his original goal, because now he was walking toward Fushimi instead of following Isana Yashiro.

There was little solace in that though. Years later, Fushimi still couldn’t move as Suoh came closer, could only hold his breath as he leaned in and gently pressed their foreheads together. It was almost unbearable to look him in the eyes, yet Fushimi couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“’S not safe here, kid. You should leave.” It was merely a mumble, but Fushimi felt an inexplicable anger rise in his throat that was even making him momentarily forget how afraid he was.

“And whose fault do you think that is?” Fushimi was hissing, voice dripping with fury. “If you’d just let the Captain handle- “

He was interrupted by the weight of a hand on his head. “Seems Munakata is taking good care of you. Make sure to kick his ass for me if he’s being a prick again.”

And then Suoh moved away and turned around, lifting a hand in goodbye as he started to walk in the general direction of Isana Yashiro again. It was odd, Fushimi should have felt relieved, the knot of fear in his stomach should have disentangled itself, but nothing of the sort was happening. If anything, it was tightening, closing up his throat as well until he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore as he looked at the retreating figure of his former King.

He couldn’t stand it. “Mikoto-san!” he cried out, out of pure desperation to do something, anything.

Mikoto turned around again, a tiny hint of surprise on his face. But Fushimi had nothing to say. Or maybe he had, but he didn’t know what, couldn’t properly formulate anything in his head besides a vague feeling of ‘Don’t go!’, but even that wouldn’t actually make it past his lips. So he just stood there, at a loss of what to do.

Maybe it was visible on his face anyway, what he couldn’t say, because at least for a moment, it seemed like Mikoto understood. “Sorry, kid,” was all he said though before he started walking again and soon disappeared out of Fushimi’s line of sight.

God, he was so stupid. Even Fushimi himself hadn’t been sure what he’d hoped to achieve with that. It was clear that Mikoto was beyond all logical argument at this point – more so than usual – or else Munakata would have been able to convince him.

But he hadn’t really been logical, had he? But the notion that he had some sort of emotional value that could stop Mikoto from running to his death was even more ridiculous. He was a traitor, after all. It was questionable whether Mikoto cared about him at all, but even if he did, there was no way Fushimi could come close to Anna or Kusanagi, or even Misaki and all the other idiots that followed Mikoto like loyal dogs.

It didn’t matter that they’d spent the night together once. Neither had been completely sober – though at least Fushimi hadn’t really been _drunk_ either – and it hadn’t had to do anything with _feelings_ or some bullshit like that. Fushimi had been trying to burn away his regrets when too many of them had been piling up, and he thought he’d seen something similar in Mikoto’s eyes, though of course he didn’t know any details. They hadn’t talked. There hadn’t been any need.

Still, later that day, when Fushimi watched his sword fall and then dissolve into nothingness, he wished they had. If only he’d tried to understand him, maybe he could’ve saved him somehow.

But, more than anything, Fushimi wished he could just convince himself that Mikoto hadn’t been someone worth saving anyway.


End file.
